


The Way She Tells Me I'm Hers and She is Mine

by QueenofEden



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff, Menstruation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofEden/pseuds/QueenofEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke has cramps and she and Isabela cuddle</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way She Tells Me I'm Hers and She is Mine

A voice calling out “Knock knock, I’m coming in!” is all the warning Marian gets before her bedroom door is being flung open to make room for a grinning, dripping wet Isabela. Marian groans internally, setting the book she’d been trying to read down beside her on the covers.

“Isabela,” she sighs, trying to bring a smile to her face, but only manages a small wince as a sharp pain jolts through her abdomen. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hardly sparing her a glance, Isabela begins kicking off one squelching boot followed by the other.

“Well sweet thing, I’m glad you asked. See what I figured is that, given the day’s dreadful turn of weather, our usual adventuring plans would be all but scrapped, but – ” She says, shutting the door behind her with a bump of her hip, “there I was all dressed up with nowhere to go when I thought: maybe I should come by anyway and we could have a little fun, just the two of us, hm?”

Marian tracks her movements as she saunters across the room, trailing tiny puddles in her wake, until she reaches the side of the bed and drops to her knees. Isabela drags a nail down Marian’s exposed arm, drawing out a shiver.

“What do you say, Hawke. Care to un-dress me up?”

For a moment Marian nearly forgets herself, almost says yes and drags Isabela under the covers with her, wet clothes be damned, until another kill-joy of a cramp passes over her and she groans out in pain instead of pleasure. Isabela pulls back a little giving her the eye. Marian smiles weakly.

“Any other time I would love to, but, unfortunately,” another jab. Another wince. “If you couldn’t tell, I happen to be on my cycle at the moment? Quite the mood killer.”

Isabela frowns – pouts really, a little crease forming between her brows to match. “This isn’t your usual time.”

Marian isn’t sure if she should be flattered that Isabela remembers, or concerned. It makes her heart kick stupidly in her chest regardless, and she frowns at herself, hoping it will be lost amongst her other myriad pained expressions.

“Trust me, I’m aware. I skipped a few months and now everything is out of sorts.” she says, with a wave of her hand that gestures to all of her. “Anders says it’s stress.”

Isabela snorts. “Where ever would he have gotten that idea?”

“I know. Clearly I am the most underworked layabout in all of Kirkwall.”

When Isabela laughs it’s light and airy like bells, bells that seem to peal and send all of the metaphorical birds up and away, for all the odd fluttering Marian feels in her chest. She swallows around a suddenly dry mouth. Maker, what is the matter with her today?

She clears her throat, smooths the coverlet restlessly with her hands until Isabela reaches out and traps one of them with her own.

“Anyways, he said he could make me up an amulet for the pain, one the girls in the circle used to use I guess, but it won’t be ready ‘til tomorrow.” she finishes, glancing up at her through her lashes.

Isabela drums her fingers against the top of Marian’s hand, lips pursed.

“Well that does explain why you’re still bundled up in bed at this late hour.” she muses, honeyed eyes twinkling. “Not that I was going to question your seemingly sudden, but totally inevitable, conversion to our libertine lifestyle.”

Marian grins. “Trust me, if I get the urge to lay around in bed all day drinking wine and reading lewd poetry you’ll be the first one I call.”

“I’d better be.” Isabela replies with an all too lascivious wink, hefting herself up gracefully from where she’d been crouched. Marian sighs, sinking as far as she can manage back into her pillows.

“I guess I’m sorry you came all this way in the rain for nothing.” she says, rubbing at her forehead. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Maker knows that I do, I just – ” she hisses through another sudden stab of pain in her gut. “Can’t.”

Isabela had slipped away, Marian presumed on her way out the door, but she’s still there stopped and opening up the boudoir on the other side of the room. She grabs something out of it, tosses it carelessly onto the chair, and begins to wrestle out of her damp clothes. They land with wet smacks on the floor: bandana, sash, corset. She’s halfway through the lacings on her tunic before Marian gains the wherewithal to stutter out, “Y- you’re not leaving?”

Isabela’s hands slow but do not stutter.

“It’s still raining. You want me to catch my death out there?” she says flippantly, maintaining eye contact with the wall. She finishes undressing, steps stark naked and beautiful out of the pile of wet things to grab the spare robe she’d nicked before and shrugs it on. It covers enticingly less of Isabela than it does Marian, the sight making her brain go all soft and fuzzy at the edges.

Hawke wonders if this is a dream, thinks that she must have dozed off in bed and she’ll wake eventually with her book on her face and Hugo whining impatiently at the door. But soon Isabela is climbing into the bed beside her, shoving the book away, making herself at home under the covers and pressing icy cold toes into Marian’s shin and no – she’s definitely not dreaming. This is really happening, it seems. Her stomach feels sea-tossed, something she’d blame entirely on her ailment if it weren’t for the fact Isabela makes her feel that way all the time anymore.

“By the by, you should work on getting the lock on your front door changed again. This latest one was far too easy, you should demand your coin back.” Isabela says, twirling a piece of Marian’s dark hair around a finger and tugging lightly.

“It’s not meant to be a test, Isabela.” Marian chides, the scorn in her tone all but lost by the way she leans up into the touch like one of Anders’ pet strays.

“And what would you do without me to tell you how unsafe your home is? That damned dog of yours certainly doesn’t do you a bit of good. He never even barks when he hears me come in.”

Marian doesn’t want to break it to her that Hugo only doesn’t bark when it’s her. That he’s simply accustomed now to her nontraditional comings and goings. That he trusts her. She isn’t quite sure how Isabela would take that, so she just hums out a noncommittal response and presses her cheek into Isabela’s shoulder. It feels cool to the touch, even through the silk, leftover from the rain outside. Or perhaps Marian is feverish? Maybe both?

“I can’t believe you read this stuff for fun.” Comes Isabela’s voice, jolting her out of her light doze. She’s holding the book she’d pushed away before like it’s something strange and possibly poisonous.

“I don’t begrudge you your hobbies.” Marian replies, the words coming out distorted around a yawn.

“Because my hobbies are exciting.” Isabela taps a finger to the tip of Marian’s nose and laughs at the way it makes her face scrunch. “’The Complete Uses, Medicinal and Otherwise, of Elfroot’ even the title exhausts me.”

Marian goes to snatch the book away. “Just give it here.” she mutters, but Isabela jerks it just out of her reach. She flips it open, to Marian’s bookmarked page, a single finger tracing the fine lines of the diagram that make up leaves and stems in dizzying patterns. Marian’s eyes feel heavy just watching. Then Isabela begins to read, just from the top of the page – something about the proper way to distinguish an adult plant from a juvenile for maximum potency. She only snickers at the word ‘potency’ once; Marian is quietly impressed.

“What are you doing?” she tries to ask before sleep drags her under, but Isabela just shushes her. Marian’s body feels leaden, pressed up into the softness of Isabela’s side, Isabela’s lilting voice in her ear as the fade tugs at her subconscious, pulling her deep into dreams of flowers that smell like sea salt and spices.


End file.
